


Shore Leave

by NanaMun



Series: The Commander and the Biotic Detective [1]
Category: Mass Effect, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, I just had to give Sherlock a proper introdution, Pre-Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Pre-Slash, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2054307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NanaMun/pseuds/NanaMun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock helps on a dull case that turns out not to be so dull. Prequel to Hidden Designs</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Just a prequel to my up and coming pseudo epic Hidden Designs.  
> If you haven't noticed, this is a Sherlock/ Mass Effect crossover, focusing on the Sherlock characters in the Mass Effect universe, so it's okay not to know what the Mass Effect series is, though seriously, read up on it. It's pretty awesome.  
> First Sherlock fic ever posted. Well, more like ficlet. But still.

**Shore Leave**

_Citadel: Year 2183_

Swipe. _Dull._

Swipe. _Dull._

Long pale fingers gave the slides another swipe, followed by an agonized groan. If it were going to be so obvious, he’d have stayed in the flat for another home study of stages of krogan genophage and its cure. It was a revision of questions of morality in current topics of science, but proved to be quite a success at passing time between cases.

This was hateful. Clearly C-Sec spent too much time tailing quarian refugees and drunken orphaned Citadel citizens to invest in simple forensic studies. He was nearly ready to send a rather rude message to the very man who felt it necessary he take a look at the simple evidence left at the crime scene when he heard the lab door open behind him.

“Sorted it out then?” Lestrade left no room for small talk, thankfully. He crossed the room only to stop a few feet outside of reach. Smart maneuver, though it would have done him no good, “Sherlock?” He asked when he got no immediate answer.

“How you manage one foot in front of the other is astonishing,” There was a rolling of the eyes in response. “The suspect you’re in dire need of finding has probably already left the station.”

A small frown pulled between the C-Sec officer’s brows, “How do you wager?”

“For one, this individual was careful, shot from a vantage point above and at a distance. The victim didn’t expect him, but nonetheless was solidly placed in quite a busy sect of the ward, without an obvious reason for being there, so the meeting was conspired by the perpetrator through a third party. Check his personal messages –there should be something there leading you to whom he should have met.”

“That doesn’t answer the question though, Sherlock. How would you know he left the station?”

The things he went through just to keep his only connection to the C-Sec open. He turned back to the terminal screen, swiping through the photos, “The catwalk above the ward is old and nearly abandoned. Due to the previous reconstruction for convenience in the area, they lost their use, making it a prime choice for the shooter.” He swiped to a new photo showing the walkway 20 feet above the traffic of Citadel citizens hidden behind multiple vendor signs and adverts, “Due to wear and tear and access near the shuttle traffic, the walkway is prone to rattling and shaking, making it difficult for a precise shot.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Lestrade’s blank stare. With a put upon sigh he continued, “Meaning that this particular individual did not only have a steady hand, but was well trained.”

“Ah,” Lestrade nodded, “But we already know we are looking for a merc with sniper training-”

“Ex-Alliance.” Sherlock corrected.

“Excuse me?”

“The shooter used a sniper rifle with a thermal clip. Outside of the Batarian black market, no signs of thermal clip weapons have reached civilian access yet. It has been strictly military, so STG, Alliance, asari commandos, Cerberus and so on. The likelihood that something as hot as this left the Terminus Systems so fast so soon would be slim…and highly suspicious.”

“And why couldn’t it have been, you know, Cerberus or something?”

“While Cerberus is human run, they are also pro-human. It is against their business to personally harm humans without proper means of gaining an advantage. Though I wouldn’t necessarily rule them out seeing how most Cerberus officers are also previous Alliance soldiers.” Oddly enough, that had never occurred to him. He supposed Lestrade did occasionally make use of himself, “Either way, the thermal clip tracks back to Alliance. As you know, N7 is a sub division in Systems Alliance, manufacturing weapons and armor specifically for their soldiers.” He spoke at fervent speed, “the thermal clip suggests an N7 Valiant sniper rifle while the projectile of the weapon proposes an individual of a height of just above 6 feet and a weight between 160 and 180 pounds, hardly fitting for a turian who are lighter or krogan who are exceptionally heavier.”

“Okay,” Lestrade added.

“The shooter had access still to his weapon, so it is safe to say that he was not officially discharged, perhaps AWOL. Either way, he had access to other ways of transportation. Judging by means of execution, he or whoever set him to do the dirty work, knew the Citadel well, well enough to execute murder in a crowded ward without being seen or stopped. That someone, by the state of things, has not kept to leaving their day job, but rather chose a different avenue for it.”

“So this is an active assassin.”

“Correct.”

“And an active assassin-“

“Moves on to other assignments.” Sherlock finished.

“And what if there _is_ another assignment on this station?”

“Surely having killed an Alliance Captain on a space station, you wouldn’t stick around…”

Lestrade wiped a brow, “Point made. But-” His thoughts were cut off – thankfully –by the door sliding open to reveal a young woman with loose, short curls and creamed coffee skin enter.

Her eyes searched, landing on the C-Sec officer first, “Lestrade.” She said with a smirk, “Long time, no see. They said you were holed up in the lab.”

“Sally?” Lestrade answered, surprised, “I thought you were still on your mission.”

“Shore leave.” She answered bitterly. Sherlock noticed the way her lips pulled down and her shoulders stiffened. Clearly there was more to the story than that. Her eyes met his then, “Sherlock.” She said without the same warmth reserved to Lestrade.

“Donovan.” Sherlock said back just as coolly. There was no love lost when she finally stuck it out with the Alliance and joined a ship and crew. It made his job so much easier.

Realizing that Lestrade would be of no assistance with Lieutenant Donovan present, Sherlock allowed them to continue their brief reunion in some semblance of peace. Lestrade was already barreling along with questions, asking about the colonies visited and how she liked her crew.

“They were as good as any,” She shrugged, before sniffing and looking away. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed at the telling body language.

“Your mission ended then?” Lestrade asked, clueless to her telling signs.

At her hesitance, Sherlock rolled his eyes and spoke up, “Prematurely, I’d wager. Tell me Donovan, how many of your crew did you lose?” The C-Sec officer’s head swiveled his way so fast, Sherlock was sure he must have pulled something. Donovan sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“You can’t leave well enough alone, _Freak._ ” She spat with enough vitriol to even make the officer wince.

“Your need to use pejorative language could only mean that it was a sufficient amount.” He went on, noting how her jaw clenched and her skin took on a russet hue, “But such a loss wouldn’t put you at the Citadel. Earth yes, but without a Major or Captain on board, it can only mean you had to touch base somewhere closer or convenient for perhaps shipment repairs and a new superior officer?” The last observation was a question, a mere stab in the dark.

“Okay, enough.” Lestrade sputtered a bit too late. Heaving a sigh, he refocused his attention on Donovan, “What happened, Sally?”

With the ease of a tried and true soldier, Donovan straightened her shoulders and spoke calmly, “We were getting leads on unknown ships passing through Hades Gamma and the Artemis Tau clusters. They brought up enough suspicion to get our attention. We went to investigate and that was when our ship was ambushed. We were able to land on Therum in the Knosses system, but not before we got a good look at our attackers.” She stopped herself, perhaps to find the strength to utter her next words, “It was an Alliance ship.”

“What?” Was Lestrade’s dismayed response.

Sherlock sat stock still, mind whirring.

Interesting, indeed.

“May I ask Donovan,” Sherlock started kindly, “was your captain the only one in your crew sought out and killed?”

Donovan hesitated just a moment, before nodding, “The only one sought out and _killed_ , yes. Though they did attempt a direct kill on our Commander and failed. Everyone else was killed off without discrimination.”

“Sally, I didn’t know.” The officer sighed, patting her shoulder fondly, “Do you have a place to stay? Are they taking care of you here?”

She swallowed back words, instead answering with a soft, “Yeah,”

“Anything you need…” Lestrade didn’t have to finish, she seemed to understand, nodding, but keeping the professional look of fortitude, “Is your Commander alright?”

“Tagged in the shoulder, but otherwise okay.”

“And you’re unsure of why you were targeted?” Sherlock probed.

There seemed to be a moment of her processing the question before she responded finally, “Sherlock, don’t think this is some puzzle you can figure out.” The anger was back, “We lost half of our people on that damned planet, and wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for the ingenuity of our pilot and the tactical strategy of our Commander.”

Sherlock stood rigidly, fixing the cuffs of his suit before striding within arm’s reach of both occupants in the room, “I’m merely making a connection, Lieutenant,” He gave Lestrade his full attention, “How often do you find ex-Alliance driven militia assassinating two captains in the span of but a few days.”

“Not often.” Lestrade’s response was wary, eyes narrowing as Sherlock could easily watch his mind catching up to where the conversation was going.

“And how often with such precise execution in the presence of dozens, if not hundreds of armed enemies?”

“Almost never.”

            “Hmm.”

            The officer let out an exasperated huff, “If you have a point, come to it, Sherlock.”

            Sherlock kept his eyes trained on Lestrade, waiting for the moment he figured it out, “Your Commander, Donovan. What was his name?”

            “Why?” She was on the defense, perhaps not trusting of what Sherlock could dig out with more information. Whether it was from confidential business or the desire to protect a superior officer, Sherlock couldn’t have been sure without more data.

            Either way, he didn’t have time for her stalling. He waved his left arm, activating his omni-tool, “Shall I just hack your files, then?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, “I was always curious as to whether you spent your adolescence in London or on a colony, judging by the particular way you-“

            “Oh hell,” She hissed, “I better not regret this. I’ve never particularly liked you, but I know when to admit when you’ve helped. And you better. Commander Watson of the _SSV Reichenbach_. I’m sure you won’t need assistance looking up _his_ files?” She already looked like she was beginning to regret giving his name.

            Sherlock was ever grateful. And just when he thought he was due for another home study of krogan genophage, “Lovely.”

            “You can’t really think that these two incidences are connected, Sherlock. We’re talking about two captain assassinations systems apart.” Lestrade protested.

            “Ah yes, and you would be correct, if it weren’t for the circumstance of time and evidence.” At that jibe, he got an eye roll, “Good evening, Commander and Lieutenant.” Sherlock bid before approaching the automatic doors, listening to the low mumble of comfort from the C-Sec officer before the doors whispered shut behind him.

            “Let’s go out for a drink after, yeah? On me.”

 

 


End file.
